


Tea and Scars

by stephenssupreme



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, first encounter, hand holding, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:49:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephenssupreme/pseuds/stephenssupreme
Summary: Stephen may find his own scars terrible but beauty doesn't just have to be seen by the eye.





	

God _damn_ it! It was Matt’s darn fault for perusing the gang thug all the way to Greenwhich Village; it had been an awful long run and unfortunately for him, the man had back up once in the village and well, as talented as Daredevil was – one against twenty was quite a hard feat to say the least. He was beaten to a pulp, surely he was going to be finished off for good, right? Not quite. He couldn’t remember much, however, Matthew definitely heard the faint sound of cracking electricity before he slipped out of consciousness. . .

 

* *

 

“Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, Daredevil,” hummed a strangely chirpy voice. Where the HELL was he? His body ached like crazy as he tried to move to sit up, assuming he was led on _someone’s_ couch. The air was potent with the rich scent of tea and spicy incense – was he taken in by the Chinese? Were they going to attempt to blackmail him about some drug deal about to take place? Crap. He didn’t have time for this. It was only at that point that Matt realised he no longer had his mask on, his hands instantly feeling his bare, bruised features.  “Or would you rather I called you Matthew, Mr Murdock?”

GREAT. G R E AT. Whoever this was, they knew who _he_ was. Well, there was no point lying now – he was exposed. At least… It was only him and the one other person in the room. There was a heartbeat upstairs but it was calm as ever meaning that person was probably sleeping for the moment. Little did he know, it was actually Wong reading some arcane scrolls up in the Sanctum's study. 

“It’s Matt. No one calls me ‘Matthew’.”

“Well I like Matthew; it suits you. Oh, you’re probably wondering where you are, correct? You’re in the Sanctum Santorum, Matthew. My home.” Whoever this was, they were awfully well spoken.

“Matt.” The demasked vigilante wouldn’t let that one slide, correcting the other male stubbornly. “You know my name; do I get to know yours?”

“Of course. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange – I had you brought in after I found you beaten up just beyond my doorstep.” The name CERTAINLY rung a bell. Stephen Strange… Stephen _Strange._ The sorcerer! Matt had heard about him; never met him personally until now, though.

Shifting a little, a small hiss seeping from his split lips, Matt moved to look in the direction of Stephen’s voice. “Doctor Strange. The one that does the voodoo stuff. I’m caught up now.” His own hand ran over his neck, feeling what should have been an open wound. “I’m assuming you patched me up? Your stitches are a little wonky if you did.” There was no answer for a moment. Had he offended the man?

“Well, I’m not the doctor I used to be-“

“You’re a sorcerer, I know.”

“Yes, but I _used_ to be a practising neurosurgeon. Stitches used to be a pleasant breeze for me.” Stephen missed the control he used to have in his hands – the perfect precision he had claim to. “If it’s any consolation, I apologise for the useless job. It’s better than nothing, however.”  

It definitely _was_ better than being left on the streets to bleed out, Matt thought, though he was suddenly distracted by his own musing when he zoned in on Stephen’s heartbeat. He was getting emotional. Most probably due to talking about his past occupation. It was a reasonable assumption. “No. It’s more than enough. Thank you.” Unknown to Matt, Stephen nodded graciously at this, standing up to walk over to him, sitting beside him.

“Here.”

“Hm?” Matt turned his head towards the voice, not sure what was happening.

“Herbal tea with a dash of honey – it’s a natural pain soother, I find.” Stephen proceeded to hand a small cup towards the blind man, his hand trembling as he passed it over.

“You’re shaking?” Questioned Matt; he could hear the liquid splashing against the sides of the cup continuously, a patterned rhythm of consistency meaning this wasn’t a new or random occurrence. He took the cup, having to place his hands on Stephen’s so that he could grab it properly. Scars. The bulged out of out the sorcerer’s skin, mapping what could only be the result of intricate surgery. He was about to say something but the hand instantly slipped away out of his grasp. “Sorry.” Was Stephen self-conscious about his scars?  

Yes.

Yes he was.

“No, no, I apologise. I should have held it in an easier way for you to take it from me.” No. he was apologising about forcing Matthew to feel his hideous mistake. His hands. His fucking pathetic, shaking and battered hands. A silence followed this, the pair of them quietly taking sips from their respective cups.

 

 

Tea wasn’t exactly Matt’s preferred choice of drink yet he drank it all, not wanting to appear rude towards the sorcerer. Reaching down, he placed the empty cup on the floor before deciding to be the bigger man in this situation. This man had let him into his own home. He aided his recovery. He didn’t ask for anything in return. Matt NEEDED to repay him in some way, though. “Stephen.”

“Matthew.” Of course. He was _still_ insisting on calling him that.

“Your hands. You’re ashamed about them, aren’t you?” There was no answer. He didn’t need verbal confirmation, though; the blinded lawyer could tell the truth just by listening to a heartbeat. “Stephen…”

Sighing, Stephen set his own cup of tea down WISHING he had his gloves on like he usually did when people were round. “It’s a horrid reminder. That’s all.” It wasn’t just the fact that they looked ugly in his eyes; it was the fact that they shook every minute of every day and that his sense of touch was next to nothing now – only able to feel pressure, no longer texture as well.

“They’re not horrid.” Reaching over, Matt felt around for Stephen’s hand, taking it in his softly, his thumb grazing over the protruding scar tissue. “I may not be able to see them but to me, personally, they feel beautiful. Scars and pain make us who we are today. The memories hurt, yes, but the present doesn’t have to.”

 

Matt Murdock, even with his heightened senses wouldn’t have known how much this truly meant to Stephen. For years now he always had a distaste for his physical appearance when it came to his hands – hiding them from the world by wearing gloves. That small gesture… Those kind words from a man he hardly knew yet… It warmed the sorcerer’s heart.


End file.
